The Best Thing I Can Do for You
by Biscuit15
Summary: After George is attacked as a five-year-old, he is left with severe trauma and mental scarring that has never been able to go away. Charlie, who has always loved George, no matter what, can't believe that George is actually trusting him - the one who let him down and allowed the attack to happen - to be the one to love him completely and utterly.


"Fred, you're going to get us kicked out if you keep throwing your food at people."

With wide, innocent eyes his family knew were anything _but_ innocent, Fred looked up from where he had been loading his spoon with more peas to launch at passers-by so he could pout at his oldest brother. "You're a party pooper, Bill."

Charlie gave a haughty laugh as he rummaged through the small money bag their mother had given them earlier that day with instructions for Bill and Charlie to take their three siblings out for dinner. Their parents had needed the rest with their two baby siblings demanding so much attention, Bill and Charlie had understood, so it was only natural they'd agreed. "We have enough money left over for some ice cream; who wants ice cream?"

While Percy gave a very simple _yes please,_ the twins almost fell out of their chairs in excitement; ice cream was such a luxury, none of them could remember the last time they'd had it.

"Alright, boys, finish your dinner first and then it's ice cream time." Bill threaded his fingers through his red hair as he smiled; his little brothers were so cute.

George, despite being as much a troublemaker as his demon-spawn of a twin brother, tended to be quieter than Fred. It was why none of them had heard much from him over dinner until now, as he leant over to tug at Charlie's sleeve. "Charlie…? I have to go toilet…"

Charlie's smile was still warm as he went to get to his feet. "I'll take you, Geor – oh, Percy? What is it?"

Percy pointed to his plate at the steak he hadn't yet eaten. "Can you cut it for me, Charlie?"

"Of course I can. George, I'll just be a moment, okay?"

George shook his head. "I gotta go, Charlie… I'll be okay on my own, promise. Okay?"

Against Charlie's better judgement at letting a _five-year-old_ wander off on his own, he nodded; Bill had disappeared already to go and order their ice cream, and he knew how poor bladder control George had. It was likely his little brother would wet himself if he had to wait a second longer – besides, the bathroom was _right there_ ; what could go wrong? "Hurry, then, George."

It didn't take long to cut Percy's food up for him, but by the time he'd finished, Fred wanted the same treatment, and then he made Charlie cut up George's food as well so his twin wouldn't feel left out when he'd come back. After that, Bill had flagged him over - still waiting in line - to help him decide what flavour to go with and then show him how to count money properly. Fifteen minutes must have passed before they'd finally gotten back to their table, and as soon as he'd taken his seat, he frowned at the glum look on Fred's face.

"What's wrong, Fred?"

Fred pouted. He pushed his plate away as his face grew pale and he wrapped his arms around himself as if to self-comfort. "I don't feel right… And Georgie hasn't come back yet…"

"Where's George?" Bill grew alert now; he knew that on some level, the twins shared some sort of deep connection where, when George had once sprained his ankle falling off Charlie's broom, Fred had felt it as well – was it possible that something had happened to George, and Fred was unknowingly feeling it as well?

"He went to the toilet, but he should be back by now…" Charlie swallowed past the thick lump in his throat; how could he have not noticed his brother was absent after all this time…? "I'm going to go check on him."

The walk to the bathroom was only a short one, but it felt like it had taken forever to get there as Charlie sifted through mental images of what he was going to find when he walked in. However hard he had tried, however, _nothing_ could have prepared him for where George was laying on the cold tiled floor, naked and covered in blood and bodily fluids, bruised up and trembling, face wet with tears as he tried to breathe past his own sock in his mouth in his unconsciousness.

Charlie screamed.

* * *

Charlie's eyes snapped open with a start. He hated that dream that reminded him of something he could never forget, no matter how hard he tried. He sat up and rubbed at his face damp with sweat, and once he had shaken the images from his mind, he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and stood up. The floorboards creaked lightly under his feet, but he knew it wouldn't bother Bill; Bill could sleep through an explosion.

His feet carried him along a path he'd walked countless times before until he was standing outside the twins' bedroom door. It was unlocked as it always was (Arthur had taken the lock off it three years ago when Fred had come running downstairs, bawling his eyes out whimpering George was trying to kill himself in their bedroom), so it swung open soundlessly.

The sleeping boys' figures were illuminated by the rays of the moon, Fred on the side closest to the door while George slept on the other side of the room. Charlie tiptoed inside, glad to hear that, for once, George seemed to be sleeping through the night alright.

He came to stand by Fred's bed, and his fingers dragged gently through his brother's soft hair. Fred murmured something in his sleep, but he didn't wake. It would be a different story if he were to try and do the same to George, though; George would wake up screaming.

His hands tucked Fred in tightly so he wouldn't feel the chill that was enveloping the Burrow, and as much as he would have loved to do the same for George, he couldn't; instead, he straightened his back and left the room in silence.

It wasn't easy living with the guilt of knowing _he_ was the reason his baby brother had been… Had been _raped_. Not a day would go by where he wouldn't berate himself for having not gone with George to the toilet, even if it meant the other boys would have to wait a few minutes more for their food to be cut up for them. If he'd just gone with George, maybe he could have…!

Don't blame yourself, Charlie…

They were words he said to himself every day, but no matter how many times he or someone else said them to him, he _still_ blamed himself.

"Charlie…?"

It hadn't been Charlie's departure that had woken Bill because his brother's eyes had already opened seconds before Charlie had opened the door again. "Yeah, Bill?"

Through his grogginess, Bill murmured, "You checked on the twins yet…?"

Charlie wasn't the only one who felt responsible; Bill was the oldest brother, and his siblings' safety had all rested on his shoulders – now, he was left with one traumatized brother and three others who would _never_ be able to shake the images of that day or the consequent nightmares from their minds.

"He's fine." Charlie knew. He knew all too well. By _twins,_ Bill meant _George_. "He's fast asleep."

Bill nodded against his pillow. "Go back to sleep. Goodnight, Char…"

"Goodnight." Charlie got back into his bed and wrapped himself up beneath his blankets, but he knew sleep wasn't coming back to him any time soon; not while the guilt ate away at him.


End file.
